[Editorial] half way -> halfway

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 			<p>The first time my optical nerves was disturbed by the sight of Buckingham Skinner was in Kansas City. I was standing on a corner when I see Buck stick his straw-colored head out of a third-story window of a business block and holler, “Whoa, there! Whoa!” like you would in endeavoring to assuage a team of runaway mules.</p>
 			<p>I looked around; but all the animals I see in sight is a policeman, having his shoes shined, and a couple of delivery wagons hitched to posts. Then in a minute downstairs tumbles this Buckingham Skinner, and runs to the corner, and stands and gazes down the other street at the imaginary dust kicked up by the fabulous hoofs of the fictitious team of chimerical quadrupeds. And then <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">B.</abbr> Skinner goes back up to the third-story room again, and I see that the lettering on the window is “The Farmers’ Friend Loan Company.”</p>
 			<p>By and by Straw-top comes down again, and I crossed the street to meet him, for I had my ideas. Yes, sir, when I got close I could see where he overdone it. He was Reub all right as far as his blue jeans and cowhide boots went, but he had a matinee actor’s hands, and the rye straw stuck over his ear looked like it belonged to the property man of the Old Homestead <abbr>Co.</abbr> Curiosity to know what his graft was got the best of me.</p>
-			<p>“Was that your team broke away and run just now?” I asks him, polite. “I tried to stop ’em,” says I, “but I couldn’t. I guess they’re half way back to the farm by now.”</p>
+			<p>“Was that your team broke away and run just now?” I asks him, polite. “I tried to stop ’em,” says I, “but I couldn’t. I guess they’re halfway back to the farm by now.”</p>
 			<p>“Gosh blame them darned mules,” says Straw-top, in a voice so good that I nearly apologized; “they’re a’lus bustin’ loose.” And then he looks at me close, and then he takes off his hayseed hat, and says, in a different voice: “I’d like to shake hands with Parleyvoo Pickens, the greatest street man in the West, barring only Montague Silver, which you can no more than allow.”</p>
 			<p>I let him shake hands with me.</p>
 			<p>“I learned under Silver,” I said; “I don’t begrudge him the lead. But what’s your graft, son? I admit that the phantom flight of the non-existing animals at which you remarked ‘Whoa!’ has puzzled me somewhat. How do you win out on the trick?”</p>

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 			<p>“She could do worse,” reflected Keogh; “but she won’t. ’Tis not a tintype gallery, but the gallery of the gods that she’s fitted to adorn. She’s a very wicked lady, and the president man is in luck. But I hear Clancy swearing in the back room for having to do all the work.” And Keogh plunged for the rear of the “gallery,” whistling gaily in a spontaneous way that belied his recent sigh over the questionable good luck of the flying president.</p>
 			<p>Goodwin turned from the main street into a much narrower one that intersected it at a right angle.</p>
 			<p>These side streets were covered by a growth of thick, rank grass, which was kept to a navigable shortness by the machetes of the police. Stone sidewalks, little more than a ledge in width, ran along the base of the mean and monotonous adobe houses. At the outskirts of the village these streets dwindled to nothing; and here were set the palm-thatched huts of the Caribs and the poorer natives, and the shabby cabins of negroes from Jamaica and the West India islands. A few structures raised their heads above the red-tiled roofs of the one-story houses⁠—the bell tower of the Calaboza, the Hotel <span xml:lang="es">de los Estranjeros</span>, the residence of the Vesuvius Fruit Company’s agent, the store and residence of Bernard Brannigan, a ruined cathedral in which Columbus had once set foot, and, most imposing of all, the Casa Morena⁠—the summer “White House” of the President of Anchuria. On the principal street running along the beach⁠—the Broadway of Coralio⁠—were the larger stores, the government bodega and post-office, the cuartel, the rum-shops and the market place.</p>
-			<p>On his way Goodwin passed the house of Bernard Brannigan. It was a modern wooden building, two stories in height. The ground floor was occupied by Brannigan’s store, the upper one contained the living apartments. A wide cool porch ran around the house half way up its outer walls. A handsome, vivacious girl neatly dressed in flowing white leaned over the railing and smiled down upon Goodwin. She was no darker than many an Andalusian of high descent; and she sparkled and glowed like a tropical moonlight.</p>
+			<p>On his way Goodwin passed the house of Bernard Brannigan. It was a modern wooden building, two stories in height. The ground floor was occupied by Brannigan’s store, the upper one contained the living apartments. A wide cool porch ran around the house halfway up its outer walls. A handsome, vivacious girl neatly dressed in flowing white leaned over the railing and smiled down upon Goodwin. She was no darker than many an Andalusian of high descent; and she sparkled and glowed like a tropical moonlight.</p>
 			<p>“Good evening, Miss Paula,” said Goodwin, taking off his hat, with his ready smile. There was little difference in his manner whether he addressed women or men. Everybody in Coralio liked to receive the salutation of the big American.</p>
 			<p>“Is there any news, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Goodwin? Please don’t say no. Isn’t it warm? I feel just like Mariana in her moated grange⁠—or was it a range?⁠—it’s hot enough.”</p>
 			<p>“No, there’s no news to tell, I believe,” said Goodwin, with a mischievous look in his eye, “except that old Geddie is getting grumpier and crosser every day. If something doesn’t happen to relieve his mind I’ll have to quit smoking on his back porch⁠—and there’s no other place available that is cool enough.”</p>

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 			<p>Among the last, Cork and Ruby waited their turn at the open panel. Suddenly she swept him aside and clung to his arm fiercely.</p>
 			<p>“Before we go out,” she whispered in his ear⁠—“before anything happens, tell me again, Eddie, do you⁠—do you really like me?”</p>
 			<p>“On the dead level,” said Cork, holding her close with one arm, “when it comes to you, I’m all in.”</p>
-			<p>When they turned they found they were lost and in darkness. The last of the fleeing customers had descended. Half way across the yard they bore the ladder, stumbling, giggling, hurrying to place it against an adjoining low building over the roof of which their only route to safety.</p>
+			<p>When they turned they found they were lost and in darkness. The last of the fleeing customers had descended. Halfway across the yard they bore the ladder, stumbling, giggling, hurrying to place it against an adjoining low building over the roof of which their only route to safety.</p>
 			<p>“We may as well sit down,” said Cork grimly. “Maybe Rooney will stand the cops off, anyhow.”</p>
 			<p>They sat at a table; and their hands came together again.</p>
 			<p>A number of men then entered the dark room, feeling their way about. One of them, Rooney himself, found the switch and turned on the electric light. The other man was a cop of the old regime⁠—a big cop, a thick cop, a fuming, abrupt cop⁠—not a pretty cop. He went up to the pair at the table and sneered familiarly at the girl.</p>

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 			<p>They played a game or two, and then they played half a dozen more. The captain won every game. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Simmons was much vexed. He grew very red in the face as his reputation as a checker player began to vanish.</p>
 			<p>“Confound it,” he said, “I’m out 70 cents. Gimmie a chance to get even. I’d give it to you if I was ahead.”</p>
 			<p>“Why, certainly,” said the captain, “but checkers is rather tiresome. Some other way suit you? Let’s have in a deck of cards and play a few hands until you get even.”</p>
-			<p>“Any way,” said <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Simmons. His hat was on the back of his head; his light-blue eyes were blinking and somewhat unsteady. His red and green spotted tie was almost under one ear. He sat with the black carpet bag in his lap, and his checked trousers had drawn half way up to his knees.</p>
+			<p>“Any way,” said <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Simmons. His hat was on the back of his head; his light-blue eyes were blinking and somewhat unsteady. His red and green spotted tie was almost under one ear. He sat with the black carpet bag in his lap, and his checked trousers had drawn halfway up to his knees.</p>
 			<p>“What, oh, what,” said the captain softly, to himself, “have I done to deserve this manna descending to me in the wilderness; this good thing dropping into my hands as if it were greased; this great big soft snap coming my way without a ripple. It’s too good to be true.”</p>
 			<p>The captain struck a little bell and a waiter brought a deck of cards.</p>
 			<p>“Let’s call it poker,” said the captain. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Simmons rose to his feet.</p>

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 			<p>After the dinner they walked down Broadway and came upon Diana’s little wooded park. The trees caught Platt’s eye at once, and he must turn along under the winding walk beneath them. The lights shone upon two bright tears in the model’s eyes.</p>
 			<p>“I don’t like that,” said Platt. “What’s the matter?”</p>
 			<p>“Don’t you mind,” said Miss Asher. “Well, it’s because⁠—well, I didn’t think you were that kind when I first saw you. But you are all like. And now will you take me home, or will I have to call a cop?”</p>
-			<p>Platt took her to the door of her boardinghouse. They stood for a minute in the vestibule. She looked at him with such scorn in her eyes that even his heart of oak began to waver. His arm was half way around her waist, when she struck him a stinging blow on the face with her open hand.</p>
+			<p>Platt took her to the door of her boardinghouse. They stood for a minute in the vestibule. She looked at him with such scorn in her eyes that even his heart of oak began to waver. His arm was halfway around her waist, when she struck him a stinging blow on the face with her open hand.</p>
 			<p>As he stepped back a ring fell from somewhere and bounded on the tiled floor. Platt groped for it and found it.</p>
 			<p>“Now, take your useless diamond and go, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Buyer,” she said.</p>
 			<p>“This was the other one⁠—the wedding ring,” said the Texan, holding the smooth gold band on the palm of his hand.</p>

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 			<p>“ ‘Andy,’ says I, ‘we’re wealthy⁠—not beyond the dreams of average; but in our humble way we are comparatively as rich as Greasers. I feel as if I’d like to do something for as well as to humanity.’</p>
 			<p>“ ‘I was thinking the same thing, Jeff,’ says he. ‘We’ve been gouging the public for a long time with all kinds of little schemes from selling self-igniting celluloid collars to flooding Georgia with Hoke Smith presidential campaign buttons. I’d like, myself, to hedge a bet or two in the graft game if I could do it without actually banging the cymbalines in the Salvation Army or teaching a bible class by the Bertillon system.</p>
 			<p>“ ‘What’ll we do?’ says Andy. ‘Give free grub to the poor or send a couple of thousand to George Cortelyou?’</p>
-			<p>“ ‘Neither,’ says I. ‘We’ve got too much money to be implicated in plain charity; and we haven’t got enough to make restitution. So, we’ll look about for something that’s about half way between the two.’</p>
+			<p>“ ‘Neither,’ says I. ‘We’ve got too much money to be implicated in plain charity; and we haven’t got enough to make restitution. So, we’ll look about for something that’s about halfway between the two.’</p>
 			<p>“The next day in walking around Floresville we see on a hill a big red brick building that appears to be disinhabited. The citizens speak up and tell us that it was begun for a residence several years before by a mine owner. After running up the house he finds he only had $2.80 left to furnish it with, so he invests that in whiskey and jumps off the roof on a spot where he now requiescats in pieces.</p>
 			<p>“As soon as me and Andy saw that building the same idea struck both of us. We would fix it up with lights and pen wipers and professors, and put an iron dog and statues of Hercules and Father John on the lawn, and start one of the finest free educational institutions in the world right there.</p>
 			<p>“So we talks it over to the prominent citizens of Floresville, who falls in fine with the idea. They give a banquet in the engine house to us, and we make our bow for the first time as benefactors to the cause of progress and enlightenment. Andy makes an hour-and-a-half speech on the subject of irrigation in Lower Egypt, and we have a moral tune on the phonograph and pineapple sherbet.</p>

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 			<p>At a corner of Sixth Avenue electric lights and cunningly displayed wares behind plate-glass made a shop window conspicuous. Soapy took a cobblestone and dashed it through the glass. People came running around the corner, a policeman in the lead. Soapy stood still, with his hands in his pockets, and smiled at the sight of brass buttons.</p>
 			<p>“Where’s the man that done that?” inquired the officer excitedly.</p>
 			<p>“Don’t you figure out that I might have had something to do with it?” said Soapy, not without sarcasm, but friendly, as one greets good fortune.</p>
-			<p>The policeman’s mind refused to accept Soapy even as a clue. Men who smash windows do not remain to parley with the law’s minions. They take to their heels. The policeman saw a man half way down the block running to catch a car. With drawn club he joined in the pursuit. Soapy, with disgust in his heart, loafed along, twice unsuccessful.</p>
+			<p>The policeman’s mind refused to accept Soapy even as a clue. Men who smash windows do not remain to parley with the law’s minions. They take to their heels. The policeman saw a man halfway down the block running to catch a car. With drawn club he joined in the pursuit. Soapy, with disgust in his heart, loafed along, twice unsuccessful.</p>
 			<p>On the opposite side of the street was a restaurant of no great pretensions. It catered to large appetites and modest purses. Its crockery and atmosphere were thick; its soup and napery thin. Into this place Soapy took his accusive shoes and telltale trousers without challenge. At a table he sat and consumed beefsteak, flapjacks, doughnuts and pie. And then to the waiter be betrayed the fact that the minutest coin and himself were strangers.</p>
 			<p>“Now, get busy and call a cop,” said Soapy. “And don’t keep a gentleman waiting.”</p>
 			<p>“No cop for youse,” said the waiter, with a voice like butter cakes and an eye like the cherry in a Manhattan cocktail. “Hey, Con!”</p>

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 			<p>“I goes back to our hotel and lays the case before Andy.</p>
 			<p>“ ‘I was expecting something like this all the time,’ says Andy. ‘You can’t trust a woman to stick by you in any scheme that involves her emotions and preferences.’</p>
 			<p>“ ‘It’s a sad thing, Andy,’ says I, ‘to think that we’ve been the cause of the breaking of a woman’s heart.’</p>
-			<p>“ ‘It is,’ says Andy, ‘and I tell you what I’m willing to do, Jeff. You’ve always been a man of a soft and generous heart and disposition. Perhaps I’ve been too hard and worldly and suspicious. For once I’ll meet you half way. Go to <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Trotter and tell her to draw the $2,000 from the bank and give it to this man she’s infatuated with and be happy.’</p>
+			<p>“ ‘It is,’ says Andy, ‘and I tell you what I’m willing to do, Jeff. You’ve always been a man of a soft and generous heart and disposition. Perhaps I’ve been too hard and worldly and suspicious. For once I’ll meet you halfway. Go to <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Trotter and tell her to draw the $2,000 from the bank and give it to this man she’s infatuated with and be happy.’</p>
 			<p>“I jumps up and shakes Andy’s hand for five minutes, and then I goes back to <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Trotter and tells her, and she cries as hard for joy as she did for sorrow.</p>
 			<p>“Two days afterward me and Andy packed up to go.</p>
 			<p>“ ‘Wouldn’t you like to go down and meet <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Trotter once before we leave?’ I asks him. ‘She’d like mightily to know you and express her encomiums and gratitude.’</p>

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 			<p>As Sue was sketching a pair of elegant horseshow riding trousers and a monocle on the figure of the hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.</p>
 			<p>Johnsy’s eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting⁠—counting backward.</p>
 			<p>“Twelve,” she said, and a little later “eleven;” and then “ten,” and “nine;” and then “eight” and “seven,” almost together.</p>
-			<p>Sue looked solicitously out the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks.</p>
+			<p>Sue looked solicitously out the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed halfway up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks.</p>
 			<p>“What is it, dear?” asked Sue.</p>
 			<p>“Six,” said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. “They’re falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But now it’s easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now.”</p>
 			<p>“Five what, dear. Tell your Sudie.”</p>

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 			<p>Grandemont was among them, the busiest there. To the safe conveyance of certain large hampers eloquent with printed cautions to delicate handling he gave his superintendence, for they contained the fragile china and glassware. The dropping of one of those hampers would have cost him more than he could have saved in a year.</p>
 			<p>The last article unloaded, the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">River Belle</i> backed off and continued her course down stream. In less than an hour everything had been conveyed to the house. And came then Absalom’s task, directing the placing of the furniture and wares. There was plenty of help, for that day was always a holiday at Charleroi, and the Negroes did not suffer the old traditions to lapse. Almost the entire population of the quarters volunteered their aid. A score of piccaninnies were sweeping at the leaves in the yard. In the big kitchen at the rear André was lording it with his old-time magnificence over his numerous sub-cooks and scullions. Shutters were flung wide; dust spun in clouds; the house echoed to voices and the tread of busy feet. The prince had come again, and Charleroi woke from its long sleep.</p>
 			<p>The full moon, as she rose across the river that night and peeped above the levee saw a sight that had long been missing from her orbit. The old plantation house shed a soft and alluring radiance from every window. Of its twoscore rooms only four had been refurnished⁠—the larger reception chamber, the dining hall, and two smaller rooms for the convenience of the expected guests. But lighted wax candles were set in the windows of every room.</p>
-			<p>The dining-hall was the <span xml:lang="fr">chef d’aevre</span>. The long table, set with twenty-five covers, sparkled like a winter landscape with its snowy napery and china and the icy gleam of crystal. The chaste beauty of the room had required small adornment. The polished floor burned to a glowing ruby with the reflection of candle light. The rich wainscoting reached half way to the ceiling. Along and above this had been set the relieving lightness of a few watercolour sketches of fruit and flower.</p>
+			<p>The dining-hall was the <span xml:lang="fr">chef d’aevre</span>. The long table, set with twenty-five covers, sparkled like a winter landscape with its snowy napery and china and the icy gleam of crystal. The chaste beauty of the room had required small adornment. The polished floor burned to a glowing ruby with the reflection of candle light. The rich wainscoting reached halfway to the ceiling. Along and above this had been set the relieving lightness of a few watercolour sketches of fruit and flower.</p>
 			<p>The reception chamber was fitted in a simple but elegant style. Its arrangement suggested nothing of the fact that on the morrow the room would again be cleared and abandoned to the dust and the spider. The entrance hall was imposing with palms and ferns and the light of an immense candelabrum.</p>
 			<p>At seven o’clock Grandemont, in evening dress, with pearls⁠—a family passion⁠—in his spotless linen, emerged from somewhere. The invitations had specified eight as the dining hour. He drew an armchair upon the porch, and sat there, smoking cigarettes and half dreaming.</p>
 			<p>The moon was an hour high. Fifty years back from the gate stood the house, under its noble grove. The road ran in front, and then came the grass-grown levee and the insatiate river beyond. Just above the levee top a tiny red light was creeping down and a tiny green one was creeping up. Then the passing steamers saluted, and the hoarse din startled the drowsy silence of the melancholy lowlands. The stillness returned, save for the little voices of the night⁠—the owl’s recitative, the capriccio of the crickets, the concerto of the frogs in the grass. The piccaninnies and the dawdlers from the quarters had been dismissed to their confines, and the melée of the day was reduced to an orderly and intelligent silence. The six coloured waiters, in their white jackets, paced, cat-footed, about the table, pretending to arrange where all was beyond betterment. Absalom, in black and shining pumps posed, superior, here and there where the lights set off his grandeur. And Grandemont rested in his chair, waiting for his guests.</p>